


Helpless wishes

by ylc



Series: Pointless [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: (they're married so...), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, implied past mpreg, implied sheriarty, nothing graphic, past Johnlock, royal au, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 21:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6536914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ylc/pseuds/ylc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter how much we wish for something, things don't always work as we would want.</p><p>Companion piece to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5673097/chapters/14878183">chapter 16</a> of "Pointless thoughts"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helpless wishes

**Author's Note:**

> So, I promised a companion piece. However, I found myself incapable of writing John’s POV, mostly because inspiration refused to come. So I reached a sort of agreement with myself and so this little piece was born. Hopefully it’ll be entertaining and enlightening enough?  
> Enjoy?

Molly is a dreadful liar, although luckily, she’s spared of being forced to lie often. People generally leave her well alone, nobody particularly interested on bugging the mousy girl. She’s used to being unnoticed and she has learned to use that on her advantage.

However, right now-

She understands why Mycroft doesn’t want John knowing about Abigail, so even if she doesn’t approve, she has agreed to stay quiet. Unfortunately, this leads to avoiding questions far too often and desperately trying not to look too guilty when she’s being questioned.

She and John were never particularly close, regardless of their mutual friendship with Sherlock. She’s well aware that the connection between the two males was deeper, but although it had made her quite jealous when she was younger, now that she is older and wiser, it doesn’t bother her at all. If anything, she pities them both for their doomed love.

So while she doesn’t feel too guilty about keeping secrets from the male, she doesn’t like it either. She smiles at him and makes polite chit chat whenever they’re left alone, but she tries to find reasons for Greg to be around whenever John happens to be ‘visiting’. If she could, she would also send Abigail away during these times, because unobservant as John might be, he’s not blind and it won’t be long before he notices the girl looks a little too familiar.

But danger lurks behind every corner and so she keeps the little girl close to her at all times, even when she’s supposed to be keeping an eye on John, ensuring he doesn’t go and do something reckless in order to see Sherlock.

This, of course, complicates the whole ‘lying’ thing. She avoids talking about Sherlock as much as she possibly can, steering their conversation to safer topics like blood and intestines and the likes. Maybe her choice of topics are a bit weird, but it’s not like she has much common ground with the other Alpha except for their studies (and Sherlock.)

She finds herself playing the role of babysitter for both John and his daughter far too often for her comfort and although she sometimes resents the fact, she realizes she really doesn’t envy Greg, Anthea or even John their respective tasks.

There is one person she does feel guilty lying to however, even if it’s just by omission. Sherlock is her friend and she cares for him deeply; her affection runs deeper than her silly crush on the Prince. Deliberately keeping this secret from him-

Well, it sits ill with her.

But she understands, or at least she thinks she does. Sherlock has mourned John before; if he was to find out he still lives, just to lose him again-

So she keeps quiet, even if it pains her.

It’s for the best, really.

* * *

 

John leaves with Greg, both needing to talk with Mycroft and Molly finds herself breathing easier. She offers Abigail a small smile, before asking her if she would like some milk. It’s late and the girl should be sleeping by all means, but with the two males in the room, arguing among them (again) she hadn’t been able to fall asleep.

“Why can’t we tell Papa?” Abby asks instead, slowly, careful to enunciate clearly. She’s a very bright child, although Molly isn’t one bit surprised considering her father. Still, this-

“What do you mean sweetheart?” she asks gently, picking the girl up. She’s getting too heavy for her; it won’t be long before she can no longer carry her. Funny, how time flies. There are days when she thinks it hasn’t been that long since she moved into the Castle and then she sees Abby and realizes time has passed indeed.

The girl stares at her as if she’s being purposefully dull, looking exactly like her father for a second. “John” she states simply. Then she frowns, seemingly considering something, “my othew papa, yes?”

Molly freezes mid motion, her blood running cold. It’s one thing to lie to adults and although some people would find it much easier to lie to a child, she finds herself incapable of. Besides, Abby is too smart for that. “Yes” she whispers, putting her to bed. “But you’re right. We can’t tell him he’s your father.”

The girl’s frown deepens. “Why?”

“Because-” Molly begins and then stops, wondering how are you supposed to explain the horrible conspiracy they’re trying to survive to an almost three year old. “Because it could end badly. John- he loves your papa very much and if he was to find out that they had you… well, he might do something… dangerous.”

Abigail doesn’t seem very convinced, if the way she’s scrunching her nose is anything to go by. John really hasn’t been paying any attention to the girl, otherwise he would have noticed by now all these little mannerisms that she has that are completely his.

Not that Molly can blame him, really, considering how worried (and upset) he’s about Sherlock. “We’ll tell him” Molly promises softly, pressing a kiss against the top of her head. “Soon, I swear.”

The girl seems willing to believe that at least, so she nods and closes her eyes, soon enough drifting to sleep. Molly sighs, sitting next to her on the bed and wondering when this nightmare will end. The whole thing is completely unfair.

Sadly, there’s nothing she can do, is there?

* * *

 

She can’t really begrudge John his attempts to see Sherlock, even if they make her day much more eventful than she would care for. Abigail has fallen asleep against her chest and that might be for the best, since she guesses they’re going to have to stay hidden for at least another half hour.

They’re at the garden, hidden beneath some bushes. Sherlock takes a stroll through the gardens once a day, occasionally by himself, but mostly with his husband for company. It’s obvious it was John’s hope to catch him on his own, but he hadn’t been that lucky. Instead he had ended up being forced to hide and listen to the conversation between the two spouses.

If Molly feels a bit nauseated, she can’t imagine what John is feeling. Sherlock is incredibly pliant under Moriarty’s attentions, although she knows that that are just hormones. The bond is still cementing itself and so his biology is playing dirty tricks on him, making him ridiculously submissive. Even though it’s easy to see in Sherlock’s eyes the fire burning inside him, he’s quite obedient on the outside.

Molly tries to find a more comfortable position to be in and quickly discovers there’s no such thing. She wishes she had noticed John slipping away from her earlier, but she had been a little busy trying to feed Abigail. Besides, she had trusted Sarah to keep the doctor entertained for at least a little longer, so…

No use on lamenting her misfortune, though. In any case, John is paying for this a higher price than her.

Sherlock’s scent has changed quite a bit already and as the smell intensifies, Molly finds herself fighting off her gagging reflex. She knows that that’s how it’s supposed to work, the scent of a newly mated Omega is meant to become almost completely disgusting to other Alphas, especially this early in the mating. Once the bond becomes a little more ‘solid’, the smell will only be overwhelming during Heat, but in the meantime-

The smell is also quite unpleasant for young Abigail, her senses conflicted about the smell of an Alpha that’s not her father mixed with the scent of her parent, so she starts squirming a bit. Molly prays she won’t give them away, because the situation could quickly escalate to something life threatening. Moriarty would be most likely displeased at finding his Mate’s former lover still lives and will set to remedy that as soon as possible. Molly shivers as the horrible image takes hold of her mind.

Luckily, the couple stands up then, the Duke practically dragging the younger male into the Castle. Sherlock allows himself to be lead, although he’s glaring daggers at his Mate the whole time. If Moriarty notices, he’s obviously unbothered by it.

“That was close.” She points out, even if she knows it’s unnecessary and maybe a tad cruel. John sighs, running his fingers through his hair, frustrated.

“I’m sorry. I just-” he sighs once more, shaking his head. “Can you blame me?”

She honestly can’t, so she chooses not to say anything more. John offers her a quick smile, before carefully leaving their hiding place and looking around. Once he’s sure there’s no one around, he turns to Molly once more. “I should leave now. I promised the Major I would help him with some things.”

The female nods and watches him go, her heart clenching painfully inside her chest. It’s easy to see in how much pain he is and she wishes desperately there was something she could do to help but-

Sadly, there’s no such thing.

* * *

 

The news of the King’s death take everyone by surprise, although Molly can tell nobody in the servants’ quarters feels quite terrible for the loss. Not that she can blame them; the King wasn’t by far a kind or a fair man and he won’t be missed.

She worries though, about what this might mean for them.

She’s not quite expecting Sherlock’s visit, but she’s not completely taken aback by it. She is, however, quite flabbergasted by their companion.

“Never mind me, Ms. Hooper” the Duke tells her smugly, taking a seat by the door, looking entirely too calm and completely out of place. “I’m just making sure my husband doesn’t get in any trouble.”

Sherlock glares briefly, but promptly turns his whole attention to his daughter. Abigail observes Moriarty for a beat, before her father drags her attention to him. Molly sits on the floor, a book on her lap, trying to focus on her reading but finding her eyes constantly drifting to the other Alpha in the room.

Moriarty sits inelegantly on the chair, his eyes focused on Sherlock, who seems dead set on ignoring him. Molly shivers a bit, her protective instincts driving her crazy with worry whenever the older man’s gaze lingers too much on Abby. She wants to grab the girl and run away, but she knows that’s not really possible.

She turns to stare at Sherlock, wondering what he’s doing here. She would have thought he would have stayed with Mycroft, making sure everything was ready for the funeral, although she guesses the Prince wouldn’t be terribly interested. The common folk won’t mourn their King and neither will the Royal Family, it seems.

But Sherlock is upset, she can tell, not only in the tight line of his shoulders or on his nervous movements, but on the fact that he has chosen to be here, spending time with his daughter, even if he has to do it under his Mate’s hateful gaze. She wonders what has happened, but knows she won’t be able to ask any time soon.

“Time to leave, darling” Moriarty announces after what feels like a lifetime. Molly can’t help to feel relieved, even if she can see that Sherlock doesn’t want to go. She wishes there was something she could say, but-

She can’t.

* * *

 

When Greg tells her what transpired earlier at the older Prince’s rooms, she feels a whole new wave of despair wash upon her. Now she knows why Sherlock was so upset earlier and she wonders if Mycroft and Greg leaving would really be such a horrible idea.

At least Sherlock would have the peace of mind of knowing his daughter was safe and loved, instead of- of-

But she knows it’s not by far a real solution. In the end, such ‘solution’ will only make the younger Prince much more miserable, the last light of his life finally extinguished. She has no doubt that if that was to happen, he would wither away and eventually die, miserable and lost in his despair.

(There’s also John to consider, but she doesn’t want to think much about that)

So no, that’s not the answer. They need to figure something else out, but what?

She honestly doesn’t know.

* * *

 

There’s a commotion at the hall, which is what wakes her up. She’s out of the bed in a flash, a sense of dread quickly taking over all her logical thoughts. She has a feeling things are about to take a nasty turn, although she can’t tell why.

The door opens and Molly picks up Abigail, fetching a small rapier for underneath the mattress in the same motion. She holds it steadily, her heart beating erratically, scared, but willing to fight. She hasn’t had much training on sword fighting, not really, but Greg has managed to teach her a couple of tricks and she hopes they’ll be enough to help her to get away.

At the door stands a man than Molly has only seen from afar, but that she recognizes right away. Sebastian Moran, Duke Moriarty’s Captain of Guard is well known all around the Kingdom, for both his fighting skills as for his cruelness.

“Put that thing down, girl. You’ll only hurt yourself” he tells her darkly, stepping closer to her. Molly holds her ground, sensing she won’t make it alive, but unwilling to go without a fight. “Just hand me the child.”

“Over my dead body” the female utters and knows right away it was the wrong choice of words, even if they’re true.

“As you wish” the man tells her with a nasty smile, pulling a gun out of his vest and Molly’s breath catches. She was already at disadvantage in this fight but with this...  Abigail lets out a distressed whimper and the older female tries to calm her without avail, too scared herself.

But she’s going to fight, even if there’s no hope on winning and so she moves quickly, hoping her opponent will be surprised enough for her to get the upper hand. She succeeds, to a point, but it’s nearly impossible to disarm a man while also holding a baby, not to mention this is quite an unmatched fight, and soon she finds herself overpowered, a gun pointed at her face and Abigail crying in earnest.

“You should have left when I gave you the chance” the male tells her and Molly closes her eyes, readying herself for the impact.

The impact that never comes. She dares to take a peek when nothing happens and finds that her previous attacker has been run through by a heavy looking sword. Molly stares, open mouthed and uncomprehendingly as Moran falls onto his knees, blood coming from his lips, evidently dying and then turns to look at her saviour.

“Are you hurt?” John demands, looking a bit startled by what he has done. Molly frowns; he was a soldier, was he not? This can’t be the first time he killed someone and yet- “Molly, are you or Abigail hurt?!” he exclaims, forcing her to focus.

“No. No” she shakes her head, her whole body still shaking with fear. “No, we’re fine.”

John nods, unconvinced, and steps around the dead man, determined to check on her apparently. That’s when a horrible thought occurs her: if Moriarty send Moran to pick Abby, that means-

“Oh god” she whispers breathlessly, grabbing John by the shoulder. “John, you need to find Sherlock.”

“What? Molly, what are you-?”

“Just go!” she urges him, her heart clenching painfully, “he might still be at the Royal quarters” or at least she hopes so, because otherwise- otherwise-

She’s shaking again and John seems unwilling to leave her like that, but something in her eyes must communicate the urgency of her plead and so he nods tightly. “Stay here. Just- lock the door, I’ll come back as soon as I can, alright?”

“Go, go!” she repeats and the male finally obeys her, leaving the room in a rush, just pausing very briefly to pick up the gun laying next to Moran. She collapses on the floor, her knees finally giving up on her, holding Abigail close and joining her on her heartfelt crying.

God, what has happened?

**Author's Note:**

> So, thoughts anyone? I’m not sure when I’ll be able to update again, because I seem to have quite a busy week ahead of me, so…  
> Anyway, thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought!  
> You can also find me in [tumblr](http://ylc1.tumblr.com/)


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